


Three steps forward, two steps back

by Euphanistic



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 10:58:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18636766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euphanistic/pseuds/Euphanistic
Summary: A night out at the bar.





	1. Getting ready

Camille took a moment to steady her breathing, her heart fighting desperately to escape the trap of her rib cage. She could still see his once-familiar eyes hanging over her, a bead of sweat dripping from his hair. She could even feel his breath on her as he spoke.

“ _Cam._ ”

One hand searched frantically along the smooth veneer particle-board of her night stand, knocking her phone to the floor in a clumsy search for the glass pipe she had thrown out months ago in a fit of long-gone progress. She just needed a hit, a little something to take the edge off. Thank goodness she had thrown the thing away.

She rubbed her eyes against the bright light filling her room. Two solid weeks of studying and exams had truly caught up with her if she was falling asleep in the middle of the afternoon with the light on.

Wait. What time was it? Panic raced through her as she jerked into a sitting position, the breeze from her fan chilling the still-damp sweat clinging to her running clothes. The little blue light on the front of her phone blinked up at her in accusation. The dim 6:47 PM was even worse.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Her ankles popped as she threw herself over the side of the bed and slid to the floor. The text was from Ali.

“Burgundy room tonight!”

Her head slammed back against the mattress with a dissatisfying thump. She was supposed to meet him almost an hour ago for drinks with his friends. He didn’t know that of course, but she had been working up the courage for almost six weeks now.

_It’s too late. You still need to shower. There won’t be any time to do your makeup like you wanted. You haven’t even picked out what you’re going to wear. You don’t even know what you’re going to say. This is stupid. Just go back to sleep and try again next time._

Camille let the thoughts wash over her as she jumped out of bed and began peeling off the tight layers that had done so well protecting her from the chilly December air.

_Nobody expects you to go out tonight. You won’t even be disappointing anyone._

Well that just wasn’t true. She grabbed her phone and jammed her thumb at the play button still hovering on the top of her screen. Her muscles tighten in anticipation as the familiar beat of the last song from her playlist filled the room. She restarted the song and sets the playlist to repeat. If it was good enough to get her to sprint the last three minutes of her run it was certainly good enough to get her into the shower.

The scent of her shampoo filled the air as she snapped her head back and forth, singing along loudly as her fingers worked lather through the short, uneven locks of her hair. If she could be out of the shower by ten after, dried off by seven twenty, and dressed by seven thirty she could still make it to the bar by quarter ‘til eight. That wasn’t too bad.

It had taken just five minutes to find a long skirt, leggings, and an old long-sleeve shirt she used to love. All she had to do now was bend over and pick up the nude bra she’d been wearing earlier and put it on and she'd be ahead of schedule. Sure, she wore the same one yesterday, but two days in a row was nothing for the trusty garment. It had been through far worse.

_Just put it on._

It was such a stupid thing to be hung up on.

_The least you could do is be comfortable._

She yanked open top drawer of her old dresser and grabbed the first matching set she could find.

_You look ridiculous._

Camille reached for her phone to turn up the volume and turned her brush over to sing into the bottom, trying in vain not to watch her body out the corner of her eye as she danced in the mirror. Bright, pale legs shown out of place against the sophisticated black of her underwear. The slightly too big, far too expensive fabric slipped as her hips jerked to the steady beat of her playlist. The old shirt hung loose over her hips, barely moving as she twisted inside of it. She threw the brush back into its drawer before ripping the damn thing off.

_You don’t even have anything to wear. Nothing fits you right anymore._

Camille went back to her closet for one of the new sweaters her mom sent her last month and almost cried with relief as the soft material hugged her close. Everything would have been so much easier if today could have been one of her good days.


	2. Going out

The bar was crowded. Far too crowded. Of course it was crowded, today had been the last day of exams. She should have known better. This was a mistake. The harsh scrape of a misaligned door on its metal frame sent a spike of adrenaline coursing through her system.

_Leave! For the love of God, just leave!_

Every fiber of her being was screaming to be let out of the suffocating din she’d walked into. No one had seen her. Ali hadn’t seen her. She wasn’t even sure he was still here. There were a thousand reasons to just turn around and go back to bed.

“Cami!”

She jumped at her own name. Why couldn’t today have been a good day? Wasn’t she having more of those recently? Hadn’t she made progress? Camille gave Ali a practiced smile and made her way over to him, skirting a wide path around the two blonde men at the table by the window and noting the bartender as she passed. It was probably best she didn’t drink tonight anyway.

“Hey! Sorry I’m late. Guess I forgot I didn’t have to spend the afternoon studying today.”

Ali chuckled politely and introduced her to his friends at the table while she began the monumental task of figuring out where to sit. Six bodies were already pressed around a table made for four with one empty chair in front with its back to the entrance. The small space on the other side of the table between Ali and a very pretty, well put together girl looked about her size.

“Here, Ash, move down and pass that chair around.”

The woman on the other side of the gap she had been headed to bounced lightly as she scooted her tall chair along the dark brick floor. The highlights in her hair seemed to catch every ray of light in the place and her top strained across her chest as she twirled the empty chair on one leg behind her.

“Thanks.”

It came out as more of a mumble than intended, but the woman smile appreciatively all the same.

“We could just pull up another table.”

Ali shrugged and picked up whatever conversation they’d been having before she arrived, expertly glossing over any potential awkwardness. It was a skill he employed effortlessly, and his willingness to use it to cover for her went a long way to convincing herself this wasn’t one of the worst ideas she’d ever had.

After a small smattering of appreciative laughter, Ali turned to face her, leaning in slightly.

“Would you like a drink?”

“Sure.”

She had really meant to say “no.” He did her the courtesy of only looking a little shocked before turning to call out an order towards the bar. Her hands twisted a knot in her skirt as the blue-eyed bartender acknowledged the request. Instead, she focused on Ali as he turned back to her. Brown hair, brown eyes. Safety. She forced her fingers to lie flat on her lap as she gave herself a mental kick. She wasn’t supposed to be thinking like that anymore.

“I’m glad you could make it tonight, I know today was probably hell for you.”

Most days were hell for her.

“I think I managed it alright. Structures was a bear, but Design was easy enough.”

“Good! An easy final is the least he could do after that project.”

“True. How about you? Did you make it through the week unscathed?”

Camille took a deep breath and gave herself a pat on the back. Asking questions was one of the conversation tips her therapist had given her over the summer when she was re-learning basic social skills. “ _Let them fill in the space. People love to talk about themselves. All you have to do is give them an opening and most people will take it and run. Just make sure you pay attention so you can respond._ ”

Shit.

“... the 800’s out of the way early. It was harder to predict which way those classes would go. The 600’s tend to be more like undergrad, so it’s easier to prepare. Plus, I only had two and one of them was Composites.”

She leapt at the sudden chance for common ground.

“That final was so easy.”

“Yeah, All of those hours of homework building up that code throughout the semester sucked, but it paid off nicely.”

She could do this.

“Right? Anyone who bothered to correct their homework just had to click ‘run’ and copy down the answers.”

“Oh, did you take Composites too?”

Camille tensed as she turned to face the woman from earlier. Ashley? One of the other graduate students in the department? She was fairly certain it was. Once again Ali stepped in to cover for her.

“She took it distance this semester.”

Her light-brown eyes never left Camille’s as he answered for her.

“But you’re on campus, right?”

Another deep breath to regain her composure.

“I’m trying to make up a semester and had a scheduling conflict. Dr. Foscue was nice enough to let me submit most of my work through email.”

“Oh, well that makes sense. Good on Foscue for being cool with it.”

Ashley gave her a brief smile before returning her attention to the far more plainly made up woman at her left. Camille turned and watched as the bartender made his way into the seating area with what she assumed was the drink Ali had ordered. She’d missed him pouring it. Her heel tapped an anxious beat against the crossbar of her chair as he approached.

“Sorry about the wait, family celebration in the dining room ordered a dozen drinks just before yours.”

“No problem. At least it’s a lighter crowd tonight with the students headed home.”

Camille eyed the almost-glowing blue concoction the man placed front of her and wondered what could have possibly made her agree to the drink in the first place. Ali reached  across and picked up her drink. He took the opportunity to gently bump his knee into her still-bouncing leg as he did, sending a very different swoop of anxiety through her. She forced her leg steady as he took a sip and smacked his lips dramatically, turning to shout back towards the bar.

“You’re a credit to your profession, Chris!”

Most of the table laughed along as the bartender gave an easy bow. Camille looked back down at her drink and took another deep breath before dragging it up to her lips. It tasted exactly how it looked, sharp and electric with just a hint of sweetness. It wasn’t very strong. Ali was doing her best to make sure she stayed comfortable. The fact that he had some inkling of how difficult this was for her meant everything.

“This is pretty good.”

Ali gave her a warm smile that he just barely missed keeping the relief out of.

“Of course it is, I ordered it!”

The friend on his right punched him lightly on the shoulder and Ashley turned from the other woman she’d been talking with to offer an exaggerated eye roll. Camille took another sip of her drink and told herself again that she could do this. Sure it was her first time going out to a bar since the incident, but it wasn’t so bad. With Ali here all she had to do was show up and he would make sure things went smoothly. Good or bad night, she should have trusted him with that from the start.

Ali was the first person she spoke to besides her therapist and the Dean of Students. Dr. Foscue had arranged a meeting over email with one of the graduate students signed up for his class to schedule a way for her to get the lecture notes without having to officially enroll as a distant student.

Camille had canceled and rescheduled the meeting half a dozen times before finally showing up at the campus coffee shop at 10:00 on a Friday morning during the summer semester. It went well enough that she’d actually felt up to ordering lunch afterwards. Sure, it was just five minutes of arranging a place and time to get materials, but it was five minutes of interaction with another human being that didn’t end with her racing back to her room and slipping into a daze for hours on end. It was her first good day.

When the fall semester started she met Ali at the same coffee shop every Friday at 10:00. He never asked questions. For a whole month he just showed up and handed her the print out of that week’s notes, occasionally with some brief tips about the material. He never pushed for small talk or offered to help her study, and he always left with a smile and wave goodbye. It only took her two weeks to stop faking the reply.

Her second good day came a full month into the semester. She had been so excited about waking up and making eggs that she’d invited Ali to actually sit and have coffee when he turned over his notes. He was a wonderful conversationalist, carrying them over every idiotic mistake she was surely making without even breaking a sweat. She would later have a long discussion with her therapist about mania and all the viscous little ways it could disguise itself as an improvement, but her weekly coffee date stuck.

“Would you like another?”

Camille snapped out of her uneasy daze and turned to see Ashley dip her head towards the almost empty glass in her hand. The other girl ignored the small nod she gave in return, her almost fixed expression demanding an actual answer.

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

“The same or something stronger? Did you drive?”

The eager concern in the her voice should probably have been annoying, but the honest, openly pleasant expression on her face wouldn’t allow it. It was a bit steadying, in fact.

“I did, but I think I’m okay with stepping up a bit.”

Her smile drew her in against her will.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you get home okay.”

Ashley actually hopped off the stool before making her way around Camille’s chair and heading up to the bar. She flirted dangerously close to staring as she continued to observe her chatting easily with the bartender and watching him make her drink. Camille glanced at Ali out the corner of her eye. She trusted him as far as she could anyone at this point, but she was starting to get the feeling Ashley might know more about her than she should after fifteen minutes and a couple of brief exchanges.

“Here you go!”

The still-fizzing glass that appeared in front of her had a light stain of dark lipstick on the rim. It was a stupid comfort to have, tasteless was tasteless, no matter how many people tried it first.

“I know you said stronger, but I told him to take it easy and had to make sure.”

Camille took a long moment before she replied. You couldn’t undo opening up to someone. If she trusted Ali enough to tell him about what happened, even just in vague generalities, then she also had to trust whatever he did with that information. It would be a lot easier if he had chosen one of the guys on the other side of the table though. Or at least a woman that wasn’t so blatantly attractive and didn’t want to sit next to him at the bar.

“Thanks.”

“Enjoying yourself?”

Ali was darting happy glances between her and the new drink in her hands. She just took a long pull from the glass in response. It burned slightly going down, but the fizzing-sweet of soda still dominated the taste. He laughed and clapped her lightly on the back. She took another pull in a vain attempt to hide her grin. Why had she waited so long to do this?

Two months into their weekly coffees and shortly after a new habit of briefly texted conversations, Ali had started letting her know when he was going out for a drink. He never asked her to join him, just gave her a time and a place. Camille’s need for space seemed instinctual to him. At first she thought it was just part of their normal, slightly stilted text conversations. It took a long while to recognize the offer for what it was. The temptation had been immediate, but she knew better than to let snap emotions control her now. After sitting on the feeling for two weeks she invited him to lunch instead. Far more friendly, far less dangerous.

They made a steady habit of sharing meals, even as she refrained from taking him up on the nights out with his friends. Other people were still a challenge for her. Sometimes, Ali was still a challenge for her. Learning how to build new relationships was a lot harder when you only had one friendship to base your idea of “normal” on. She was also pretty sure that basing her expectations for other people on Ali was just setting herself up for disappointment. It would have been so easy for him to treat her like some project instead of a person. Sure, a broken person that needed space and occasionally behaved with wild irrationality, but still a person. It took almost the entire semester to decide the night out was worth whatever vague risks to their friendship she associated with it.


	3. Closing time

Camille sipped her way through two more drinks and allowed Ali and Ashley to push and pull her into various conversations around the table. She still mostly talked to Ali, but everyone, except maybe Jessica on Ashley’s left, seemed to accept her without question. Dave, the guy on the other side of Ali, had even picked on her for the way her pinky seemed to drift away from her glass every time she lifted her glass. Dave seemed to pick on everyone and the inclusion unknotted anxieties she wasn’t even aware she was still carrying.

All too soon the cliche opening to Semisonic’s  _ Closing Time _ were echoing around the walls of the bar. The whole table seemed to groan as they stacked empty glasses and made their way to the bar to close their tabs. Camille moved to join them but Ashley’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. 

“They’ve got this. Bathroom break before we head out?”

Camille caught from her expression that it wasn’t really a question. Jessica pushed past her with a mumbled apology. Whatever, She needed to pee anyway.

“Sure.”

Ashley expertly twirled a small brush through her eyelashes as Camille let the stall door fall closed behind her. She took her time washing her hands, desperately trying to avoid being left awkwardly standing there while the other girl touched up her makeup. Her own purse held only the barest of essentials. She couldn’t touch anything up even if she wanted to. She almost groaned when a small compact replaced the brush in her hand.

“Sorry, I know I’m being a bit ridiculous.”

“It’s fine.”

Camille dried her hands and turned her back on the mirror to stop herself from comparing her own hastily applied work.

“Would you like to borrow anything?”

“No, I’m good.”

“I love your hair by the way.”

Camille couldn’t help but look over the gentle, carefully done curls perfectly framing the other woman’s face. She didn’t even come close to keeping the sarcasm out of her voice.

“Yeah?”

Ashley rolled her eyes at the tone, a tube of lipstick following the compact back into the small bag she wore around her shoulder before turning to face her.

“I’m being serious. It’s pretty fantastic on you.”

Camille tensed but allowed a few stray hairs to be pushed back from her face. She was starting to feel like she was failing some sort of test.

“Shall we?”

Oh well, she wasn’t sure how she felt about Ashley anyway. Sure she had been perfectly friendly and gone out of her way to make Camille feel included every chance she got for the entire night, but still. She lingered a little after holding the door open, letting Ashley drift ahead of her as they came back to the group. Her insides twisted as she watched her arm snake its way around Ali’s waist before leaning in to tell him something. She felt her face burn as he nodded and returned an obvious squeeze with the arm hung loose about her shoulder in reply. She did her best to bury her emotions as she rejoined them.

“Well, we’re off. It was wonderful to meet you Camille!”

There was no way she was about to trust her voice to respond, so she just nodded her goodbye. Ashley was annoyingly unperturbed, giving her a warm smile and even a little wave as she took Jessica’s hand and guided her out into the street.

Ali spared her a confused between his own goodbyes to the rest of the group. She managed to actually vocalize her response to the rest, and even awkwardly patted Dave on the shoulder as he left. He smiled at her and she let herself believe he understood.

“Do you want to grab a jacket from your car before we head out?”

Camille hesitated. They probably hadn’t drank enough to make walking strictly necessary, and walking her home would give Ali about a three mile walk back to his apartment.

“I’ve got an extra in mine if you don’t have one. It got a lot colder than I was expecting tonight.”

She glanced down at his heavy jacket and thick sweatshirt before arching an eyebrow at him.

“What? Brown people don’t do well in the cold.”

“You were born in Massachusetts.”

“Yeah, but my mom wasn’t. That still counts.”

The knot of jealousy and disappointment that had settled in her stomach loosened a tad as he grinned at her. 

“Fine, I’ll carry your extra jacket just in case you get to cold.”

He could have actually stuck his tongue out at her and it would have been less offensive than that laugh. At least he had the good grace to ignore the surely-audible sigh she let out when she pulled his jacket over her head.

It didn’t take long for her poor mood to return though as they made their way down the sidewalk. Actually showing up to the bar tonight had only been half of what she had spent those six weeks working up the courage for.

“Sorry if I sort of came between you and Ashley tonight.”

The idiot actually stopped walking. She paused a couple steps ahead but refused to look back at him.

“I can’t figure out if you’re joking or not.”

She didn’t reply.

“Oh God, you’re serious.”

She threw him a stern glare over her shoulder.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”

At least he had the decency to apologize through his broken fits of laughter.

“I’m sorry, it’s honestly not that funny.”

She turned to face him, narrowing her eyes even as the corners of her lips twitched. That laugh was far too infectious to be healthy. Her heel tapped out her nerves on the sidewalk.

“No, really, I’m sorry. A lot of things just suddenly made sense.”

“You could share.”

He gave her a look that told her he was perfectly aware of how hard she had fought to keep his humor out of her voice.

“Cami, you were sitting next to them all night.”

“What?”

“She literally went home with her right in front of you.”

Well that wasn’t helpful. Some semblance of seriousness returned to his face, capping the performance with a patiently exasperated sigh.

‘I don’t think Jess would have appreciated me making a pass at her girlfriend while she was sitting right next to her.”

Oh. Well he could have tried a little harder to not sound like he was explaining simple facts to a small child. His laugh at her expression rolled over her, settling deep within her like it belonged there. She punched him on the shoulder as he walked past before turning to join him.

“You really didn’t notice?”

“Nope.”

“They were literally holding hands across the table.”

“There was a lot going on!”

He laughed at her again, something new and strange creeping into the cadence as it faded. He cleared his throat.

“Besides, I probably wouldn’t have minded you butting in even she weren’t firmly playing for the other team.”

It didn’t even cross her mind to get her hopes up.

“Have you two been friends long?”

Whatever had come over him disappeared as he replied.

“About six years now. We met sophomore year of undergrad.”

“In class?”

She almost missed the hesitation.

“No, she started out a year ahead of me. We met in group.”

Camille barely restrained herself from diving headfirst into that. She thought about all the times Ali had sat with her and didn’t press about things she would say. She thought about all the broken sentences he had been forced to recover from throughout their conversations.

“Well I’m glad things worked out.”

He threw her a relieved glance.

“You know I’m the one that actually introduced her to Jess?”

Camille had no idea how she was possibly supposed to know that.

“Really?”

“Yup. Of course she’ll deny it though. Wants all the credit for herself.”

“Naturally.”

Every time they crossed a street Camille felt a timer in her head tick down. As happy as she was to be having this conversation as opposed to the one she’d started, it wasn’t the one she had spent weeks working up to. She chanced a look at Ali and noted that whatever she had noticed earlier earlier was back. He brought his hand up to muss the curls at the back of his head, kicking a stray rock into the gutter.

“So, you’re graduating next week.”

“That’s the plan.”

He kicked another rock. What was this?

“Any plans?”

Wait, was this nerves? She wasn’t sure she had ever actually seen Ali nervous. And about her graduation? That was kind of adorable.

“Yup.”

She let the silence hang. It was sort of fun being on the other side of this for once. She thought about making him suffer the whole block, but panicked a little at the thought of losing another notch on her timer without even making an attempt. They were over halfway to her apartment at this point. 

“I got my acceptance email last week.”

“For grad school? Where at?”

She fisted her hands in the pocket of her, well his, jacket to stop from punching him again. 

“Here, you dingus. Where else would I go?”

She melted a little at the immediate relaxing of his shoulders as she told him.

“That’s awesome, congrats!”

He did a little skip in celebrative solidarity, but the nervousness in his step seemed to come back even stronger. She gave herself two more blocks to put together how to start this or she would just start rambling.

Ali stopped at the crosswalk at the end of the first block. The little red hand was up, but at close to one thirty in the morning there were no cars coming down the road. He leaned casually against the light post as he turned towards her.

“Listen, since you’re going to be here next semester, I was wondering if you wanted to go out for dinner some time?”

They went out for dinner all the time. At least this gave her more time before they started on her second block. How, exactly, was she supposed to start this? ‘ _ Hey I know we only ever eat food and drink coffee together, but would you maybe consider asking me on a date some time?’ _

“Sure, where were you thinking, Dino’s?”

Really though, how did guys do this all the time? This was the downside to trying not to think about this part of the night when she decided to go out. Sure, if she had thought about it she likely never would have gotten up the courage to come, but now she had all the courage she needed and it was getting her nowhere. He gave a slight huff.

“No, I mean actual dinner.”

“Dino’s has actual dinner. You don’t have to just get the salad bar.”

“Cami.”

She lost her train of thought and looked up, irritated.

“What?”

“I’m trying to ask you out.”

The tone in his voice finally broke through to her and her entire body seized up.


	4. Long walk home

“Why?”

_ You fucking idiot. _

He looked exhausted.

“Because I like you.”

She just stared at him. After a moment he turned and walked in a small circle, mumbling to himself. She made out “ _ high school bullshit _ ” as he came back around to face her.

“I just mean, you don’t even really know me.”

She hated herself for it as soon as it came out of her mouth. It wasn’t true at all. Fresh panic broke through whatever tension had been holding her muscles hostage. Ali stopped and looked up at her in surprise.

“I don’t know you? Cami we’ve seen each other at least three times a week almost the entire semester.”

“No, I know, I just meant, there’s still so much you don’t know about me.”

She was just regurgitating reasons she had already come up with for why she shouldn’t start this conversation in the first place.

_ Also he’s three years older than you, way out of your league, mostly normal, and not a complete trainwreck at least five days a week. _

Only, she reminded herself, she hadn’t been the one to start this conversation. He had.

“Yeah, that’s kind of why I thought we could go on a date. To get to know each other better.”

Why couldn’t she just say ‘yes’ and be done with it? It was everything she wanted out of this conversation. Just say ‘yes.’

_ You know it’s just charity, right? _

The thought was poison and it cut through her like a knife. It wasn’t anything new, she wrestled with the idea constantly.

“So, what do you say?”

He was starting to look uneasy. If she trusted that everything else he did for her wasn’t pity then why was she so determined to see this as such? She wanted this. Desperately. She wanted all of this.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to. I guess I’m just trying to make sure we’re both on the same page about this.”

Camille tried to navigate her way through every chaotic thought and fear about risking the one friendship she’d managed to piece together in the past seven months rushing through her brain. 

“No.”

“No?”

This was hopeless. Her thoughts were a mess. She could see his expression slipping again, the beginnings of well-masked disappointment threatening to break her in whole new ways.

“Look, I don’t mind if you just want to be friends. Honest.”

Fuck this.

Her mouth was on his before she knew she had decided to kiss him. For a brief, awful moment nothing happened. Then his lips began to move against hers. His hands found a place on her back and pulled her against him. Her spine arched under the gentle pressure, her own hands winding their way beneath his jacket. Everything she was yielded to the sparks spitting through her veins and over her skin. It was bliss. 

Until it wasn’t. His hand moved up her back. She tensed as they ghosted across the back of her neck, his fingers threading their way through the short locks on the back of her head and suddenly it was all too much. Her scalp exploded in pain. Course ropes bit into her wrists behind her back as rough cement ripped into her thighs just below her shorts. She screamed before she could stop it.

Ali pulled away in horror even as she tried to shove him back herself.

“I’m sorry!”

He didn’t even know what to apologize for. Her vision doubled as bile rose in her throat, adrenaline threatening to tear her apart. She felt warm air and humidity on her skin and leaned back against the the wall of whatever store was behind her to stop from falling.

“Camille!”

She fought back with everything she had and slowly, ever so slowly, her vision cleared. She gulped cold air and forced herself to ignore the acrid lump still lodged in her throat. She reached out blindly and pulled herself back up and into Ali’s chest, only partly out of some mad attempt to prove she still could. She folded herself into his jacket and trusted him to get her through as the panic began to recede. One day she’d remember to thank him for not hesitating to wrap his arms around her. Her breathing evened out and her skin began to tingle from the aftermath of the attack. He was saying something to her, she realized. She let the words wash over her as she continued to come down.

“It’s my hair.”

The steady circles his hands had been making on her back halted cruelly. She struggled to find the words she needed to get out, needed him to hear. 

“I can’t… I don’t….”

Camille stopped and focused once more on her breathing. She had come so far the past few months. She felt tears sting the corners of her eyes. She was graduating in nine days. Graduating. After everyone had assumed she would drop out. She had made up for her withdrawal last spring by literally crawling out of bed in the mornings over the summer for classes and an absurd, almost double workload this semester. In spite of everything, in nine days she would graduate with a degree the world told her she wasn’t good enough for long before anything else had tried to crush her. This would be a different kind of impossible, but she had come too  _ fucking _ far for this to be what stopped her.

Camille pushed herself out of Ali’s jacket to look him in the eye, lifting her hand to run it gently along the rough stubble of his jaw, forcing herself to feel the scrape of it across her palm. This was worth dealing with. 

“It’s not your fault.”

He didn’t look relieved in the slightest, another thing she’d have to remember to thank him for some time. Her hand froze as she tried to force the words from her chest. Crawling out bed had almost been easier than this.

“It’s my hair.”

The details may not have been there, but she’d told him enough to be confident he knew exactly what this was about.

“I was in and out most of the night, but I came to while he was dragging me to the trunk.”

Her therapist always told her the hardest part of telling someone was starting the conversation. She was wrong. The hardest part was all of it.

“One of the first things I did after was cut it all off, but that didn’t stop it from becoming a thing.”

She paused.

“At least now I get it cut at a salon.”

She watched the familiar, steady strength come back to eyes as she spoke and let it drive her. He was always so good at reading her mind, but these were things he needed to hear out loud. No matter how unfair it was, this was part of the price she was always going to have to pay for things to move forward, with anyone. Maybe her therapist had a point though, because she really did feel better. Or at least a bit more stable.

“I’m so, so sorry I reacted like that.”

Anger flashed through his body so quickly she could have imagined it. When he spoke though, his voice was the same familiar calm he always affected when this subject came up.

“It’s not yours either, you know.”

“I’m getting there.”

The silence probably should have been more awkward. Camille brought her hands to his chest and leaned against him again. He took hers in his and turned to cross the street.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

It wasn’t fair to either of them for her to feel disappointment welling in her chest. She tried to focus on the grip Ali held on her hand and the butterflies fluttering through her stomach as she fell into step beside him. 

It was such a small victory. “ _ That’s what progress is _ .” She sighed at the accuracy with which she could imagine her therapist’s voice. She didn’t even know if it was anything she’d ever actually said. It was true though. Three steps forward and two steps back was still moving in the right direction. It felt like ages ago that she had woken up and struggled with her wardrobe.

“You know, this really isn’t how I hoped tonight would go.”

She had learned a while back that there were times being around Ali meant losing the ability to think before she spoke. It wasn’t at all fair, considering he never seemed to have any problem with that himself. He forced wry grin and spared her a glance.

“That’s weird, this is pretty much how I expect all of my nights out to end up.”

Speaking of not fair, how did he always know how to reply to all of those stupid thoughts?

“I’ll be sure to take that into consideration next time I come join you guys.”

“Next time?”

She gave him a weak smile and squeezed his fingers.

“Yeah.”

Her apartment building was just around the corner. She probably had another five minutes to enjoy holding his hand before they got there.

“Out of curiosity, how, exactly, did you imagine tonight would go?”

The inflection he put into the word “exactly” nearly made her groan. She caught the strain in his humor though and forgave him. Once again, he was trying so hard, and she knew it couldn’t be easy. She was trying too though, dammit.

“I could barely imagine opening the door to walk in, do you honestly think I could manage imagining anything else?”

She tried to make it sound wry and aloof. It wasn’t enough, but Ali pushed them through with a laugh.

“You literally just said this isn’t how you imagined tonight would go!”

He bumped his hip into her as he spoke, and that had no business feeling as familiar as it did.

“I said ‘how I  _ hoped _ tonight would go’!”

“Oh, well then how did you  _ hope _ tonight would go?”

She didn’t blame him for being uncertain. She may have intended that kiss as a ‘yes’ but he wasn’t going to know that for sure until she actually said something. They were just a block from her apartment. She stopped and took a deliberate look down at their interlocking fingers.

“Honestly, this is pretty close to where I wanted to end up.”

She desperately hoped that didn’t come out quite as breathless and soppy as she though it had.

“Huh, and here I am not managing to make it past asking you out.”

Hopefully the smile on her face didn’t look as stupid as she thought it did either. Judging from the excitement splattered all over his face, she didn’t think he would care if it did. She took a turn to bumping him with her hip and his laugh seemed a lot more genuine this time.

A fresh wave of anxiety swept over her as they approached the door to her apartment. She knew he wouldn’t make a pass at her. Ice water would have been less effective at killing the mood than her little episode had been. She had been honest earlier, this was pretty much everything she could have hoped for. So why did it feel so small and insignificant now? 

They were heading up the sidewalk now.

She knew how this would go. Ali would wait until she’d unlocked the door and slipped inside, then turn around and walk away. Maybe with a brief hug in between. It wouldn’t even cross his mind to be upset by it. Her thoughts drifted to the matching underwear she fought to put on before going out, a small knot of excitement tightening somewhere deep within her. Okay, maybe it was more of a lukewarm dousing.

The vibrations from every step they took seemed to shake her entire body. She’d even cleaned her apartment. The knot tightened further. She reached for her keys without letting go of Ali’s hand. He leaned against the doorframe as she pulled them out with a small jingle. Camille turned and faced him for what felt like the first time in hours. He looked content, an easy happiness seeping into every subtle expression she could see in his posture. She looked him over, searching for any hint of what he might be thinking. Finally, she met his eyes and gave into the reality that she’d known exactly what she was doing when she was getting ready this afternoon.

“I lied.”

She could feel her face burning as something seemed to explode in the space between them. He looked curious, curious and patient and happy and content. She gave his hand another squeeze.

“This isn’t anywhere near where I hoped we would end up.”

She shifted her gaze to the top button on his jacket. It seemed like a much safer choice than continuing to meet his gaze or risk staring at his lips. That’s probably why she missed them slowly drifting down to meet hers. 

If he noticed the tiny squeak of surprise when they finally met, he didn’t show it. Ali started to pull away just as she was getting over another, much more pleasant dose of adrenaline. Her hands found the soft material of his sweatshirt and pulled him back against her, hard. He reached out to steady them before they fell against her door. He was holding back and she didn’t blame him.

Camille felt her way down his arms, gently teasing at the tension from holding them up. He stepped closer and she took the opportunity to gently pull his hands off the door. She guided them to her waist and refused to let herself hate how cautious they felt there. She pressed back against him and wrapped her arms around his head, pulling him back down to her. It was left to the tiniest portion of her she could manage to track the slow movement of his hands circling against her lower back. That part she did let herself hate.

It felt like an eternity before she pulled away and forced air back into her lungs, hardly believing she was watching him do the same.

“Inside.”

She swore she’d meant it as a question. He nodded and kissed her again as she tried to contort her body to unlock the door without breaking the contact. She gave up with a growl and shoved her key into the lock and threw the door open, dragging him past the immaculately dusted surfaces and not stopping until they reached her bedroom. She didn’t quite trust herself with an opportunity to stop and think this over again, but of course he had to give it to her.

“Are you sure?”

Camille shoved him backwards, the edge of her bed catching him just above the knees and forcing him into a sitting position. She sat and twisted, swinging her leg across his lap to straddle him. She dragged her lips up his jaw and breathed a confirmation into his ear, feeling him groan as his arms tightened around her.

“Anything I need to be aware of?”

They both knew it was a loaded question, but she decided to try and play it off anyway.

“I’m clean, you?”

“Clean. Anything else?”

She bit her lip and flexed her thighs against him. She felt him twitch through her leggings and let the pressure keep her in the moment.

“Don’t call me ‘Cam’.”

He stared as she worked her lip between her teeth like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. If the strangeness of the request bothered him, he didn’t let it show.

“I have a brother named Cameron. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She felt like her nerves were going to rip themselves out of her skin if she didn’t do something soon. Her lips found themselves latched on the small hollow a the base of his neck.

“You have a brother?”

His laugh rolled pleasantly along her lips as she made her across his throat.

“You were right we really should spend some more time getting to know each other.”

She leaned back and pulled his jacket and her sweater over her head in one go, his stare blazing a slow trail from the hem of her skirt to the dark material covering her chest.

“After?”

His gaze never wavered as she reached back and undid the clasp behind her. She watched him swallow as she moved her arms back around to drop the garment to the floor.

“Definitely after.”


End file.
